


A Day in the Life

by Evilpixie



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Batfamily & Superfamily (DCU), Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Dynamics, M/M, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:35:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21679849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evilpixie/pseuds/Evilpixie
Summary: It wasn't exactly a typical day in Clark's life. But, on the other hand, it wasn't exactly atypical either.Featuring:A spoonful of angst, a dash of smut, a sprinkling of fluff... and a whole bunch of Superbat family shenanigans.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 35
Kudos: 424





	A Day in the Life

**Author's Note:**

> Totally un-betaed and cobbled together in one day. You have been forewarned.

Clark woke up the way he always woke up, sprawled in bed, the sheets cast aside, the first feeble rays of sunlight trickling in through the open curtains. Where that light touched his skin his cells thrummed with potential energy, the sensation warm, deep, and invigorating.

It made him want to lift off the mattress, to fly and feel that warmth on every inch of his skin.

But, more than that.

It made him want to kiss, touch, and move against a warm willing body.

It made him want to fuck.

He rolled over and looked at the bed beside him. Empty, cold.

He sighed.

It was going to be one of those mornings.

Clark beat back the tight tendrils of desire, dressed, and left the bedroom.

Wayne Manor was, as always this early in the morning, quiet. It wouldn’t remain that way for long.

He made his way into the study, pushed aside the grandfather clock which was already hanging ajar and walked down the steps, yawning as he stepping into the darkness. What he found when he entered the batcave was a familiar sight. Bruce was at the computer, still in his suit, hair rumbled from his cowl, eyes shadowed. He was staring at the screens in front of him, each one displaying different pieces of whatever puzzle he was trying to put together this time. A string of violent robberies by the looks of it.

“Good morning,” Clark called.

“Hhmm,” Bruce said.

“Master Clark,” Alfred said, relief obvious in his voice. “It’s good to see you.”

“Rough night?”

“Indeed.”

“Don’t worry, Alfred. I’ll take it from here. The kids will be up soon.”

The butler nodded. “Of course. I will go start breakfast. Are you sure…?”

“Yes. Don’t worry about us.”

He waited until the butler was gone before kneeling by Bruce’s chair. “Hey.”

Bruce’s eyes didn’t stray from the screens, flicking from point to point. Deducing, deducting, decoding.

“Will someone die in the next twenty four hours if you don’t solve this?” He asked softly.

A pause. A long pause. A very long pause. “No,” Bruce finally admitted. With that, some of the tension seemed to melt out of his shoulders. He slumped back into his chair and ran a hand through his hair. The lines in his face somehow suddenly looked deeper.

“Okay,” Clark reached out and took his hand. “Next question, and I know you’re bad at answering this one so I want you to listen. Are you hurting anywhere?”

“I’m fine.”

Clark had been with Bruce a long time. He knew there was a difference between ‘I’m fine’ and ‘no’. He used his xray vision to do a quick scan of Bruce’s body. He couldn’t see any obvious broken bones or open wounds. Not that that meant much. Some of the worst injuries Bruce had ever had hadn’t been large or obvious. But there was no small fractures in his skull, no internal bleeding. There was some nasty bruising on his shoulder and side but apart from that he seemed mostly in one piece.

Clark let out a breath. “Okay. Come on.” He made the executive decision not to bother with a shower. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He pulled Bruce up and, when it became clear he wasn’t going to get any help, carried him up the stairs and back into the bedroom.

There he stripped him of his suit, rolled him up in bedding, and closed the curtains. Bruce was already unconscious before Clark returned to the bed. He pecked him once on the brow and returned the disassembled suit to the cave.

By the time he got to the parlour – a small room near the kitchens where most meals were had in favour of the large and, in Clark’s opinion, rather Dracula-esque dining room – the family was starting to assemble.

Or, at least, the part of the family that was powered by the sun.

Kon was wolfing down a small mountain of pancakes smothered with an obscene amount of maple syrup, Kara was wearing a bizarre assembly of clothes which could only have ever been considered fashionable on Krypton (at least the underwear was on the inside, that was an improvement), and Chris was reading the dictionary, again. Jon, for his part, was looking at Clark with wide worried eyes.

“Is Bruce okay?”

He’d been listening through the walls again.

Out of the corner of his eye Clark saw Alfred turn his head slightly as he brought Kon more pancakes, evidently as interested in the answer as Jon was.

“Yes. He’s fine. Just tired.” Clark smiled. “He’ll be fine.”

Clark grabbed the serving tray from Alfred and together they sat down to have breakfast. Just as they were finishing the second wave began. It started with Dick. The long limbed man walked into the room with a bright and cheery ‘good morning’. The greeting was echoed enthusiastically.

Sunny mornings generally went over well with Kryptonians. Not so well with bats. Dick was the exception.

Behind him came Barbara who had clearly been dragged out of bed by her boyfriend. She didn’t say a word. She took a seat and startling guzzling orange juice, ignoring solids for the moment. A short while later Cass appeared, followed by Steph, Duke, Damian, and – to everyone’s surprise – Jason.

Jason rarely stayed in the manor. When he did he never announced his presence. He would just be there one day, and gone the next. Clark had learnt the hard way not to talk to him about it.

Tim came last, as usual. He shuffled in a somewhat zombified state to the coffee plunger. He drank it black and steaming hot, a bad habit he’d picked up from Bruce, and a sure sign he’d been up late.

“What time did you get home last night?” Dick asked, as if reading Clark’s mind.

Tim didn’t answer. Just took another cup of coffee.

“One,” Damian said without looking up from his plate.

In surprise. “That’s late for a school night. When I was Robin I always had to be home by midnight.”

“Perhaps, Grayson, I am a better Robin than you.”

Dick ignored the barb. “What about you, Tim?”

The boy blinked sleepily at Dick. “Huh?”

“What time did you get back?”

“…five?”

“AM?!”

“PM.”

A pause. “You didn’t go out last night?” Dick asked.

“No.”

“Then why—?”

“He was up all night studying for his SAT,” Kon accused. “ _Studying_. I mean, who does that? He wouldn’t even play a PlayStation game with me _even_ when I said he could pick the game.”

“Oh,” Dick settled down. “That’s okay then. What time to Bruce get back?” It was normal for Batman to patrol for hours after Robin retired.

“Late,” Alfred answered. He neglected to add the ‘very’ to that statement but Clark could tell from the pleat in Dick’s brow that he heard it anyway.

“He’s okay,” Clark added with a reassuring smile. “In bed now. He’s okay.”

Dick. “Does he need help with whatever he’s working on. You know I’m—”

“Busy,” Barb said, touching his arm. “You’re helping me out with my thing, remember? The drug smugglers?”

“Oh. Right.”

Cass snorted.

Duke rolled his eyes.

Tim took another mouthful of coffee.

As usual Clark did the dishes after breakfast, recruiting a few of the kids to help – Steph, Kon, and Chris this time – while Alfred made and packed lunches. After that all the kids needed to be herded back together, their uniforms, for those that had them, straightened.

School runs were always hard. Especially because of the wide variety of schools they attended.

Damian, Tim, and Cass all needed to go to Gotham Academy.

Kon and Chris were going to Smallville High.

Duke insisted he didn’t want to leave his friends at East Gotham High School.

Steph, likewise, had tried the Academy but decided she would rather stay at her old school.

Kara had graduated last year and was attending a community college in Seattle of all places, but still liked to come home to the family.

Jon was in his last year of Elementary at Metropolis Central though soon had to make the choice whether he wanted to stay in Metropolis for Middle School.

Barbara, Jason, and Dick were adults and so didn’t need to be made presentable. That was a saving grace because Barbara’s hair was a mess of tangles, Jason wasn’t wearing a shirt beneath his leather jacket, and Dick had dribbled some rainbow cereal down his front.

Still, six schools was more than enough for any household to organise. As usual, the Academy kids left first.

“Master Timothy,” Alfred held out a pair of car keys. “The BMW.”

The teen reached sleepily for the keys.

Alfred pulled them out of his reach. “On second thought…”

“I’ll drive,” Cass took the keys and marched of the room. Damian followed, Tim shuffled out last.

“Kara,” Clark asked. “You’ll be alright to fly yourself? You know the way?”

She nodded and said something in Kryptonian too fast for Clark to catch.

Chris made a face and spoke back to her even faster.

Kara made a face. “That was _one time!”_

“Okay,” Clark cut in. “I trust Kara can manage.” Besides, it would still be a few hours until the sun rose in Seattle. She’d have plenty of time to find her way. Hopefully she wouldn’t get lost. Last time she’d ended up in China. How she overshot by that much Clark had no idea. “Kon and Chris. Will you be okay?”

“We’ll get there,” Chris said. “Eventually.”

Kon shot the other boy a sharp look. “What does that mean?”

“It means you fly slow.”

_“What?!_ Firstly, I could beat you in a race any day, pipsqueak. I just _choose_ not to because it would mess up my hair. Sec—”

“Fly at a responsible pace,” Clark said. “Jon. You’re with me.”

The boy beamed.

Steph and Duke were going to be dropped off by Alfred. Duke because he was too young to get his license, Steph because she’d crashed a car a few months ago and still hadn’t managed to get hers back. Clark hoped it wouldn’t take too long and that Alfred could come back and get some sleep soon. From the bags under the butler’s eyes, he surely needed it.

The flight to Metropolis was slow and steady. He went through the cloud cover, holding Jon’s hand as the boy bit his bottom lip, focusing on flying. He wasn’t very good yet and held tight onto Clark’s fingers.

Still they arrived at Metropolis in time for Clark to give him a long hug right on the doorsteps of his school.

“Daaaaaaaddddd!” His cheeks were pink by smile huge. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“Pick you up from your mum’s after school, okay?”

“Yeah. I know.” He wiggled out of Clark’s arms and ran into the school with the first bell.

From there it was a short bus ride to the Daily Planet.

“Wow. You already look tired,” Lois said as he walked in. “One of those mornings?”

“Yeah.” His phone buzzed in his pocket. He looked at the message. It was from Kara. Two words. **I’m lost.** A picture arrived a moment later, taken from altitude, it showed what looked like the Alaskan coastline.

At least that was closer to Seattle than China.

“You need to go, don’t you?”

“Five minutes,” Clark promised and retreated back into the elevator.

Ten minutes later he remerged, buttoning his shirt back up and combing his windswept hair back into Clark Kent’s typical fringe. Lois hadn’t moved. She was, however, frowning at the TV screen hanging over their desks. On it was some of the grainiest footage Clark had ever seen.

He squinted, trying to make sense of the mass of pixels. “What are we looking at?”

“Batman,” she said.

Clark’s heart thudded. Sure enough, as he watched the shape managed to quiver into focus for a few short seconds. He saw Bruce, suited up, snarling, cape snapping around him as he fought… Bane. A coldness settled on Clark as everything quickly snapped into place.

The bruises, the drug trafficking ring.

“Is he okay?” Lois quietly asked.

“Yeah,” Clark said and let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. It was over. He could already see it in the footage he was watching. Bane was on one knee, Bruce knocked him down to the other, then pulled him down onto his face. A moment later the police swarmed in. Batman fired his grapple gun and was gone.

Thank God Bruce had already sent Damian home. Thank God.

“Do you want me to take Jon for a few days?”

“No no. It’s fine. Bruce is fine. We can manage.”

Work was shit. Clark was juggling several stories and spent most of his day either on the phone, trying to get in contact with a lead which had up and vanished, or sifting through old documents looking for clues in a cold case he was doing an exposé on. His heart wasn’t in it. His mind kept circling back to the footage he’d seen on Bruce fighting Bane.

It was fine, he reminded himself. Bruce was fine. A little bruised, but fine.

Still, he knew he wouldn’t sleep soundly the next few nights Bruce was on patrol. Not that he’d ever tell Bruce that. Bruce needed to be trusted, to be allowed to do his own thing. Clark respected him enough to give him that, even if it was hard sometimes.

As usual, Lois left early to go and pick up Jon. Clark stayed late. It was a good arrangement. Jon liked his afternoons with his mum and Lois liked getting to work early before anyone else was around to distract her.

**I’m staying with friends tonight.** Kara texted as the sun started to set.

Clark itched to ask ‘which friends’ but beat down that impulse. Kara was an adult now, not to mention probably stronger than him if she set her mind to it. He wasn’t going to hang over her social life like that creepy father figure.

**Cool.** He responded.

As if sensing his apprehension she sent him a photo of her with three other girls, all roughly her age.

**Margo, Nicola, and Liu. They’re foreign, like me. Exchange students. I told them I was Czech. We’re going to have pizza.**

He smiled, somewhat appeased. With their faces Bruce would be able to track them down in fifteen minutes. Barb in five. Victor in one. **They look awesome. Have fun.**

She sent back a confusing assembly of emojis. Probably might have meant something on Krypton. Or maybe she was just a teenager and he was getting old.

He sent her a thumbs up.

A couple of hours later he sent his notes on the cold case to Perry and made his way to Lois’ apartment to pick up Jon. As usual he stayed for an hour talking to her and playing with Jon. It was good, he thought, for Jon to know his parents were still good friends, even if they weren’t married anymore.

As he was leaving Lois touched his shoulder. “Hey. You’ll look after Bruce, won’t you? It looked like he took some pretty nasty hits last night.”

“He’ll be alright,” Clark promised. “Normally he takes care of the kids in the afternoon. I think today I’ll try to pick up the slack. He’ll want some peace and quiet.”

“Peace and quiet,” Lois echoed with a smile. “That sounds like a good idea.”

Unfortunately, ideas are one thing. Reality is another.

When Clark got back to the manor it was chaos.

Damian and Cass were having a sword fight, because of course they were, Steph was riding Barbara’s old wheelchair down the stairs, and Kon was snatching Tim’s homework away from him with TK.

“Give it! Give it!”

“Not until you agree to play _one_ round of _Boarderlands_ with me!”

“WEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeee!”

“Keep you guard high, little brother!”

“ _Ttch!_ Don’t lecture me on sword craft! I am your master twice over—ouch!”

“I told you to keep your guard high.”

A loud crash. Steph’s voice rung out a moment later. “I’m okay!”

Barbara gave a round of applause.

From the other room Clark could hear another fight just starting.

Dick. “What?!”

Jason. “You heard what I said.”

Dick. “You can’t date my ex! That’s _weird!_ ”

“Exes.”

“Huh?”

“Ex _es_.” A pause while Jason took a drag from his cigarette. “I’m seeing Roy too.”

At that point Dick more or less exploded. “WHAT?!”

Well… at least Duke and Chris looked like they were getting along… They were sitting at the table, Chris’ dictionary open in front of him. Duke was pointing something out. “See. I’m right. Sheep is singular _and_ plural.”

Chris’ eyes were slowly turning from blue to red, glaring down at the book as if it personally betrayed him. “But that doesn’t make any _sense_.”

Oh boy. In order to save Alfred’s polished heirloom table from heat vision Clark was going to have to act fast. He let go on Jon’s hand and rushed over to calm Chris down. Yes, English was a stupid language. Yes, it would be better if everyone spoke Kryptonian. Yes, it made much more logical sense as a language, but, on the other hand, English was kinda pretty wasn’t it? Yeah. And some other Earth languages were better. Like Bahasa. That was a good language, right? Yes. Good. Eyes blue. That was good. Now to deal with the rest before—

The noise behind him immediately subsided.

Clark flinched and turned around to see Bruce, bruised, standing at the top of the stairs, glaring down at the scene before him with sharp silver eyes. He was wearing nothing but a pair of track pants. Despite that he looked just as intimidating as he did when he was in his batsuit.

Behind him was an even more terrifying figure. Alfred, looking mildly disappointed.

Half an hour later half the kids were in the cave working through a gruelling routine (not Jason, he’d vanished the second Bruce appeared). The rest were upstairs either studying (much to Tim’s delight) or cleaning (much to Kon’s displeasure). Bruce was back at his computer piecing together the drug trafficking ring which, Clark guessed, was distributing Venom and had been how he’d come face to face with Bane.

“Hey,” he came to stand beside him. “Sorry. I was trying to keep them quiet. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“I had enough sleep, Clark.”

Wow. Full sentences. Maybe he had managed to get a few good hours in.

“That’s good. Hey, I saw on the news that you were—”

“You skipped a kick, Steph!” He called out without turning around.

“How the fuck did you see that?!”

“Language.” Dick called out jovially, enjoying the work out. “There are children present.”

“I am not a child!” Damian yelled.

“I was talking about Jon.”

“Oh… well, in that case, Grayson, you are right.”

Jon had been floating in the corner, features tight, practising flying. Upon hearing his name he looked up – “Huh?” – and immediately fell to the ground, knocking over a rack of batterangs. Weapons smashed down onto rock with a deafening crash.

Bruce pinched his brow.

“I saw that you fought Bane,” Clark finished quietly.

Bruce looked at him. “I did.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I sustained no serious injuries, and the threat was neutralised.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Bruce glanced back to where the kids were still exercising. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said.

“Okay,” Clark nodded. “Are you going out again tonight?”

“Yes. Only briefly. I don’t expect any combat. I just want to check on something. Then I’ll turn this information over to the police.”

“Good. That’s good. I’m happy this case is finally wrapping up,” Clark leant forward and kissed him. It was a small kiss, quick. Still, it elicited an immediate response.

Steph. “Eeeeewwwwww!”

Damian. “Must you two do this in front of me?!”

Dick. “I think it’s great. Love is love.”

Cass, dryly. “You weren’t so supportive of Jason earlier.”

“That’s totally different!”

Bruce sighed.

“Will you be at dinner tonight?” Clark asked.

“No. I have work to do.”

Clark lay awake that night, listening to the distant firing and scraping of Bruce’s grapple gun. The flurry of his cape as it snapped into shape and was left to go soft again. He hadn’t taken Robin with him and was moving swiftly. Despite what he’d told Clark there was combat. He was stopping by a few key locations, fighting through the thugs, getting information. Slowly, he uncovered the missing pieces of his puzzle, and then, when it was complete, he went to the police.

Jim Gordon didn’t ask him how he’d got the information. He just took it.

After that Bruce was off on his regular patrol. Flying, fighting.

Clark didn’t remember falling asleep but the next thing he knew he was waking up. The sun was peeking over the horizon, warming his skin, filling him with energy that ran through him in lazy waves.

This time when he rolled over the bed beside him wasn’t empty.

Bruce was sitting there, showered, naked, watching him. “Sorry.”

Clark studied him. He’d shaved. Clark wished he hadn’t shaved. He quite like it when Bruce was a little rougher around the chin. “What for?”

“Yesterday. I was… elsewhere. Mentally. I wasn’t a very good partner.” He didn't say what Clark knew he wanted to, that Bane got to him. He always did.

“Hey. You don’t have to be the perfect partner every single day, you know. Some days you can do what you need to do and leave stuff to me. I’ll manage.”

“I know you will. It is not a question of managing, Clark.”

“And some days, when I’m busy with Superman, I trust you to manage.”

“I feel like I’m the one leaving things to you more often,” Bruce said softly. “I feel like I’m the selfish one.”

“Saving people isn’t selfish, Bruce. And it's not a competition. Batman is more time consuming than Superman. You’re a detective, you investigate. I’m a first responder. It’s different.”

“I—”

“You know what _is_ selfish? Sitting there, naked, in that beautiful body of yours and not even giving me a good morning kiss.”

Bruce’s eyes softened. He looked at the open curtains and back to him. “Sunny morning, huh?”

“Yeah. The second in a row.”

“My. I have been neglecting you.”

Clark pouted playfully.

Bruce leant in close. Clark thought they were going to kiss but, right at the last moment, Bruce grabbed his hair and spoke low and deep directly into his ear instead. “You stay right there, Kent. Don’t move.”

Then he was gone.

Clark slumped back on the mattress, face down, grinning. Bruce had called him ‘Kent’. He’d been with him long enough to know what that meant. Soft and sweet? Those were Clark days. Kent? Not so much.

Sure enough, when Bruce came back to bed he didn’t waste time. He climbed on top of Clark and, when he tried to rise, pushed him bodily back into the mattress. There was a scrape of teeth on his neck that had Clark gasping and fingers that threaded through his hair, making him want to keen and purr at the same time. But none of that compared to the weight of another body over his, hard, firm, and large enough to pin him from his ankles to his wrists, which Bruce pushed down above Clark’s head.

The heat in him stirred. His cock, trapped between him and the mattress, began to swell.

Bruce made a small, hungry sound. The wet hardness of him pushed up against Clark’s backside, sliding against the muscle. Slowly, he began to rock, working himself to full hardness as his mouth continued to devour Clark’s neck.

“The kids will be up soon,” Clark whispered urgently. Their rooms faced different directions, they wouldn’t get the sun as soon as Bruce and Clark’s room did, but it wouldn’t be long.

“Are you telling me to be quiet, Kent?”

“I’m telling you to hurry the fuck up.”

A low chuckle.

But he got the point.

Bruce held Clark’s wrists above his head with one hand, pushing enough weight down that, if he was anyone else, it would bruise. With his other hand he reached down and slid a hand between Clark and the mattress.

He gasped and shook and Bruce’s hand found his cock, taking him in a firm hold. Positioned as he was, pelvis pushed tight against the mattress, Bruce couldn’t stroke him.

Clark began to levy himself up to give Bruce some room.

With a growl Bruce pushed him back down in to the mattress. “I told you not to move.”

Clark shuddered.

“You’re hard,” Bruce said, voice softer, fingers squeezing him. “Very hard.”

“Yes.”

“And wet.”

“Yes. For you. Please.”

Bruce, much to Clark’s dismay, pulled his hand away. Fortunately, the situation quickly improved again when Bruce’s thumb, newly slicked with Clark’s own precome, slid against Clark’s hole. His fingers, just as wet, dug into the flesh of Clark’s arse.

Clark thrust up against the mattress, earning himself another warning growl, but honestly, at that point, he really didn’t care. He just wanted friction, and to feel the weight of the man on top of him.

Bruce pushed a finger into his hole.

Clark bit into the pillow.

_God_ , he wanted him. Not that that was very surprising. He’d wanted Bruce ever since he’d first seen him, swathed in shadow, cape billowing in the wind, eyes shining with terrifying intelligence. They hadn’t been friends then. Not at all. But that hadn’t stopped him from imagining what it would be like to pull off that cowl and crush their lips together, to feel the large hard body against his, to fuck and be fucked by someone like Batman.

It was years later when he met Bruce Wayne and those fantasies started to become more concrete, more absolute.

Of course, by then, it was too late. He’d been dating Lois and Bruce and Selina were circling each other like neither could decide who was the cat and who was the mouse in their strange courtship.

In the end Selina ended up slipping away, more in love with Batman than with Bruce. A few years later, Clark’s marriage started to become strained. They tried, they really did. But, in the end, they decided it was better for Jon if they separated. They would rather he see them happy apart than unhappy together.

It was the day after the divorce was made official that Clark, upset, had somehow found his way into his best friend’s home. A few nights later he found his way into his bed. And there he had stayed.

“Ah,” he breathed as he felt Bruce’s finger, which had been firmly and forcefully working him open, found a particularly sensitive spot inside him. _“Ah.”_

Bruce’s breathing was heavy, his teeth scraped against Clark’s ear.

Clark pressed his face harder into the pillow in a desperate bid to stifle the moan that fell from his lips.

It had been tricky at first. They both had a lot of responsibilities, not to mention baggage, but in the end they’d made it work… and despite everything, Clark could never regret it. Being with Bruce meant often waking up alone. It meant days, sometimes weeks, of Bruce being focused on the job and not on him. It meant lying awake some nights, hoping he was okay.

But he loved Bruce. He loved Bruce more than anything, except maybe the family they had made together. Large, strange, noisy, and chaotic. But theirs.

“ _Fuck_ , Bruce!” He couldn’t help himself. He pushed back against him, moving, more than he knew he was allowed.

Bruce grabbed a fist full of his hair and shoved him back down into the mattress. That was the end of anything resembling preparation or foreplay. Bruce snarled as he roughly wrestled Clark back into position, and sunk his teeth into his shoulder.

Clark keened. That sound transformed into a gasp, and then a groan, as Bruce impaled him, firmly, slowly. It felt… _God it felt so good._ The tip of his cock was thick and leaking with come. As Clark relaxed he slid in deeper, nestling tight against all those sensitive spots deep inside, filling him up and making his cock throb with need. Clark was rutting against the bed before he realised what he was doing, Bruce’s fist tight in his hair.

“That’s it,” Bruce husked. “That’s… _ah_ … that’s it.”

Clark was grinding up against the mattress, giving himself some rough desperate relief but also moving on Bruce’s cock. He picked up the pace, let himself glory in the weight and scent of the body pinning him down, the feel of him inside him, the sounds Bruce made.

“That’s… ah… _Ah!”_

A hand clamped down on Clark’s hip, angling him. At the same moment Bruce began to thrust, deep forceful thrusts that cut straight to the quick of him.

It wasn’t elegant or beautiful. It was hungry, forceful, rough, and perfect. Clark knew he was smiling, wide, stupid, and happy. He couldn’t help it. It didn’t matter. Neither of them was present enough to worry about something like that. They were both moving, seeking their own releases, yet getting something even better; grunts, sighs, and snarls out of each other with every new movement, every new touch.

All the while the sunlight shone through the window, making his skin sing and insides twist with want and need.

At one point Clark reached around to grab a handful of Bruce’s arse, pulling him against him harder. At another Bruce raked his nails down Clark’s ribs. Several times Clark couldn’t take it anymore and tried to rise, tried to manoeuvre himself so he could get a proper hand on his cock. Every time that happened Bruce would shove him roughly back down which, honestly, was a thousand times better than the hand would have been anyway.

Clark came first, panting, his orgasm blinding in its intensity. Bruce slowed when he realised what was happening, gentling Clark through it.

“Don’t you dare you bastard,” Clark whispered as he sprawled out under him, boneless and blissful, aftershocks still rolling through his limbs. “Come on. Fuck me. Come _on_.”

Bruce was never one to disappoint.

When he came, thrusting forward so hard it pushed Clark against the headboard, it was almost better than his own orgasm. Clark closed his eyes and let himself feel it. The spill of seed inside him, the shiver of muscle up his back, the broken breath in his ear.

“Fuck,” Bruce sighed.

“I love you,” Clark told him.

“You too,” came the sleepy response as Bruce rolled off him, slumping down onto the bedding.

He was tired. It had been a long day.

Outside Clark heard doors start to open and close, voice bickering in a mix of Kryptonian and English.

His day was just beginning.

He leant over and pressed a warm open kiss onto Bruce’s lips. Bruce indulged him and for a minute all they did was slide their tongues against each other, explore each other’s mouths, bask in each other’s scents. Then Clark rose, wrapped Bruce in all the non-soiled bedding, and pulled the curtains, leaving the room in darkness.

“Have fun at work,” Bruce rumbled.

“See you when I get home,” Clark responded. “Sleep well.” He pulled on some clothes and left the room.

Breakfast, as always, was chaotic.

Getting everyone to school on time was a challenge.

Work was busy and unforgiving.

The evening was a mess.

But, somehow, Bruce managed to wrangle everyone together for a family dinner which included Jason (along with Kori and Roy, much to Dick’s horror). Bruce sat at one end of the table, Clark sat at the other. They gazed at each other through the raised voices, and the laughter, and the general havoc of their family.

It was in that moment – as Damian, enraged by the meat being served, stood up and started hurling potatoes, beginning the mother of all food fights – that Clark realised he had never been happier.

**Author's Note:**

> I have been having a hell of a time with some of my original projects lately and decided to take a break and throw together some short Superbat as a personal reprieve. I hope you enjoyed it. <3


End file.
